Original subtitles

(upbeat music)

(sensual jazz music)

(heels clicking)

(dramatic music)

(patrons chattering)

- Dear Red Shoes,

I don't keep a diary.

Even this is difficult for me.

Not to tell you my story, but to write a letter.

To write subjectively, to try and express emotions as words.

You see, I was trained to repress emotion,

to think, behave, and account for my actions

with the barest minimum of words,

but what I found out about myself through this experience

is that I'm actually quite good with words.

Pushed against the wall, I think I could talk anybody

into just about anything.

This oughta be good, Stella.

(Stella whimpers)

Do you work out?

Of course you do, I don't know a single person in the city

who doesn't go to the gym,

but maybe that's because I'm always there,

seven days a week, whenever I'm not working.

(upbeat music)

- [Woman] I love looking at men's bodies.

I mean, love looking at men's bodies.

Biceps, torsos,

hamstrings, abs,

and like 98% of the faithful,

I'm here to check out and to be checked out.

(sensual jazzy music)

There is, however, that 2% of the faithful

who go to the gym simply to work out.

The super-dedicated,

the ones who never look at anyone else,

not even themselves.

At the West Side Body Connection,

that 2% was a racquetball player.

His name is Nick.

Nick Willard.

That was all I knew about him.

He wasn't like anybody else in the gym.

(racquet thudding)

He was the only man, in two years of coming to the gym,

who never noticed me.

Never.

(racquet thudding)

Three times a week, he'd show up at the gym,

beat somebody, and leave.

And those eyes,

those beautiful eyes.

He was an extraordinary being.

(glass shattering)

To meet him, I had to employ extraordinary means.

(siren wailing)

There was no way he wasn't going to notice me tonight,

I'd already gone too far.

I was committed.

There was no turning back.

(radio chatter)

In for a penny, in for a pound.

(radio chatter)

Like my daddy used to say,

anything worth doing is worth doing right.

(ominous music)

License and registration, please.

- Did they change the speed limit here?

- Nick Willard, that's you?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Yes, officer.

Would you step out of the car please, Mr. Willard?

- Yes, officer.

(ominous music) (radio chatter)

- Do you know you have a broken taillight?

- No, I didn't this morning.

- Step up to the curb, please.

- I beg your pardon?

- Step up to the curb, please.

- I beg you pardon, officer, what for?

- Arms out at your sides, head back, eyes closed.

Touch the tip of your nose with your right index finger.

(radio chatter)

Okay, Mr. Willard, I've seen enough.

Step over to the fence.

- Excuse me?

- Step over to the fence.

- I think you owe me some sort of explanation.

- Put your hands up on the fence, spread your legs.

- What's the charge?

- Driving with a broken taillight.

Violation of vehicle code 2-4-6-0-0.

- You're frisking me for a broken taillight?

- Keep it forward, Mr. Willard.

Place your right hand behind your neck.

(handcuffs clicking)

Now the left.

(handcuffs clicking)

- This is ridiculous.

What the fuck is this?

- You're digging yourself a hole here, Mr. Willard.

(dramatic music)

- This isn't even correct procedure.

I mean, you're arresting me for a traffic misdemeanor?

Aren't you gonna read me my rights?

- Wanna hear your rights?

You have the right to remain silent.

I took him to an artist's loft in the middle of the city,

the place we'd done a drug bust the night before.

I know, I must have been crazy

putting my job on the line,

abusing the authority of my badge,

but I'd thought about it, this was the only way.

- I have $200 in my wallet, take it.

Take my watch, whatever you want.

- I don't know why I chose the place.

Maybe because I felt it was a place he belonged.

I could see him there on opening night

with all those models, all those well-dressed people.

And then there were the chairs.

You like art, Nick?

I don't know much about it,

but lately it's just gotten under my skin, you know?

I mean, there's a guy, spends $28 million

and builds some yellow umbrellas out in the dessert,

take'em down in three weeks.

Can you imagine that?

What's that compared to barber chairs?

- [Gangster] Gig's up, Costello.

(gun firing) (man screaming)

- Gangsters.

Dames.

- [Gangster] Give (muffled by gunshot)

a proper burial, will you Charlie?

(gate squeaks)

- Have a seat.

(ominous music)

- If you're one of those singing telegrams...

- Shh.

Rule number one, I talk, you listen.

(siren wailing)

This is my game.

Play by the rules.

My rules.

You look good, Nick.

I mean, you always look good,

but tonight, you look especially good.

(chain rattling)

- Do I know you?

- No, you don't know me.

You have no idea who I am.

No, Nick.

You don't know me, I'm just a woman

just like every other woman.

Why should you know me?

- So far, I've gotta tell you,

you don't strike me as an average woman.

- Thank you, Nick.

I appreciate you saying that.

That's why you're here.

I'm going to convince you that I'm not an average woman.

Aren't you even going to ask me my name?

- McCabe.

It's on your badge.

- So, you do notice things?

How about remembering things?

Would you remember my first name if I told it to you?

- It's Officer, isn't it?

- My friends call me Lynn.

(metal clinking)

- Aren't you worried about me turning you in, Lynn?

(gate rattling)

- Turn me in, Nick.

If you want to.

But I don't think you want to.

Think of the humiliation.

Wouldn't do your career much good now, would it, Nick?

What are you?

Stockbroker?

A lawyer?

You look like a lawyer.

- Why the blindfold?

- Because Nick, beneath this uniform,

you may not like what you see.

- Then again, Lynn, I might.

- [Lynn] No, you see, Nick.

You've made it perfectly clear I'm not up to your standards.

- When was that?

- Every day, five days a week

for the past two years,

working out at the same gym.

You never once noticed me.

Not a nod,

not a hello,

you didn't even recognize me when I pulled you over.

- I go to the gym to play racquetball, not to flirt.

- So where do you do your flirting, Nick?

- I don't.

I work.

I work out and I work.

(gun fires on TV)

- Do you work with the same intensity

that you play racquetball?

- Put it this way, I never lose.

- Really?

Do you make love with the same intensity?

You know, I've always wondered if it's the same thing,

the stamina it takes to, say, run a marathon

or play two hours of racquetball

and staying power in bed.

(heels clicking)

(gentle jazz music)

I used to run long distance,

but it's hard on a woman.

It affects your metabolism.

Sometimes women's bodies are too sensitive.

- So I've heard.

- What else have you heard about women, Nick?

What else do you know?

Do you know how attractive you are to them?

You should hear what they say about you

in the women's locker room.

You should hear their fantasies.

I'd like to hear your fantasies, Nick.

Do you ever fantasize about women in uniform?

- Candy stripe.

When I was having my tonsils out...

- No, Nick, I mean, don't you like to play dress up?

I do, I do it all the time.

Some men really understand what it's like

to play dress up.

My father did.

He was a sergeant major in the Marine Corps.

(gentle piano music)

Too bad I was such a disappointment to him.

- Why?

- I should have been a boy.

- Lynn, I'm glad you're not a boy.

- How glad, Nick?

(gentle jazzy music)

Not glad enough.

Yet.

(sensual jazz music)

(handcuffs rattling)

(sensual jazz music)

- [Nick] Lynn.

Your really good friends, what do they call you?

- You can call me Lynny, Nick.

- No, your really good friends.

- Mona.

(Nick chuckling)

My real name's Mona.

- Mona.

Lynn.

McCaleb.

- The question is, do you believe in safe sex?

(sensual jazz music)

I do.

In this day and age, it would be irresponsible not to,

don't you think?

I spent over 45 minutes in the drugstore today

trying to decide which brand to buy.

I spoke with both pharmacists.

All those colors,

textures.

I hope the one I chose doesn't disappoint you.

(sensual jazzy music)

(pants zip)

- Listen, Mona.

- Good.

That's good, Nick.

That's very good.

On a scale from one to ten,

now, I'd say I gained a few points.

There.

All set.

And now, we wait.

- [Nick] Wait for what?

- Rule number two,

we wait for you

to ask me to make love to you.

I don't do anything unless you ask me too.

- If you know anything about men,

you know that my temporary physical condition

doesn't necessarily mean that I wanna make love to you.

My cleaning lady, my bank teller, my Aunt Louise

all give me hard-ons,

it doesn't mean I wanna make love to them.

(smooth jazzy music)

- Tell me about your cleaning lady,

your bank teller, your Aunt Louise.

They've never been this close to you,

this available, this absolutely and totally available.

(sensual jazz music)

Time

stands still.

(Lynn panting)

(sensual jazz music)

(Lynn panting)

- You broke the rules, Officer McCabe.

- Who gives a fuck?

- I hope you enjoyed yourself.

Get involved with me, you surrender to me.

- [Lynn] Bullshit.

- Your dreams, your aspirations--

- Bullshit.

- Your every thought. - Bullshit.

- All of it.

They belong to me.

(energetic sensual music)

(Lynn moans)

(Lynn panting)

(Lynn moaning)

- What had started out as a battle

quickly escalated into war,

neither of us willing to give up control.

As soon as we'd stop making love, it'd start again,

over, and over, and over again,

until eventually,

Mr. I-go-to-the-gym-to-work-out-not-to-flirt

started to crack to a point where,

you know what?

I actually think he began to like me.

(racket thuds)

Bullshit!

Bullshit to everything.

Bullshit to everything you say.

You'll never beat me!

I'll never surrender.

I'm a dame, Nick!

And I'm a cop.

(Lynn laughing)

- Listen to me, tough guy!

I'm tired of this bullshit!

- Bullshit.

- Look, it's been a month now.

We've gotta go back to work!

- Bullshit.

- From now on, we're gonna have a normal relationship,

you and me. - Bullshit.

- I'm gonna buy you lingerie, and a dress,

and a car, anything you want.

I'm gonna take you to dinner,

and I'm gonna pay for it!

- Bullshit.

- We're gonna go to bed at 11 like normal fucking people

and watch the fucking news! - Bullshit.

- And we're gonna go to Ohio,

and I'm gonna meet your grandma,

and she's gonna like me, and I'm gonna like her.

(sensual jazz music)

Just like normal,

normal people.

You understand?

(sensual jazz music)

- Bullshit.

Bullshit.

Bullshit.

Like my daddy said, play to win,

and never, ever, give up control.

- Never give up control.

Never give up control.

Maybe for a little while, but in the end,

somebody's gonna lose,

and the harder you play, the harder you fall.

But at least they got it out in the open.

At least their facing it head on.

(sensual jazz music)

So tell me, Stella.

Where do you do your flirting?

Huh?

(sensual jazz music)